Little Girl, Gentle Giant
by Ninazadzia
Summary: Thresh/Rue two-shot. He's a giant, she's twelve, and they're both about to fight to the death. It would never work. But that doesn't change how much Thresh cares about Rue, and in another world, he would've been her hero. R&R
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Since seeing the movie, I've been very inspired. I figured I'd pay homage to one of the Hunger Games' more traditional couples. This is different from most anything of what I've written, and for the first time in ages, I _don't_ think I'm channeling a Vampire Diaries character. Enjoy it while it lasts xD

~Vikki

**Note: POV switches after every pagebreak between Rue and Thresh's perspectives. I'm not a fan of these much, honestly, but this is how the fic worked out the best.**

_Little Girl, Gentle Giant_

By WildPomegranate

I knew what my classmates said about me. I was the big, hulking black guy, intimidating anyone shorter than five foot nine. They took my silence to be stupidity, and they took my strength to be danger. They were scared of me. Everyone was.

Good.

Being silent didn't mean I was deaf, but people sure as hell acted like it. Because over the years, I'd hear everything they called me. Hulk. Scary. Monster. Creepy.

Serial Killer.

The last one was a joke. It's funny how life works that way. My most harmless nickname was something I'd become in a matter of years.

That didn't matter. Because even before the Games, people were too scared to be around me. And that's how I liked it.

I liked being alone, up in my tree where no one could bother me.

And then, one day, someone did.

XXX

Six mouths to feed was a hard task for anyone, much less someone like me. Small, wispy, and barely twelve years old, I don't think anyone expected little Rue to be the kind of girl that's up well before dawn and asleep well after sunset, spending the day at harvest until my knuckles would bleed. But it's okay. I liked harvest.

It meant I got to sing.

Some days were better than others, and when the storm clouds would roll in, I'd whistle a tune and my fingers would move faster. Peacekeepers didn't like us singing in the fields. Even something like that could be an act of rebellion.

Besides, if I sung all of the time, I'd have no voice left.

XXX

Most years, Reapings mean nothing to me. Another one of my classmates walks to the stage and stands in front of the entire district, terrified and looking like they're about to pass out on the spot. If anything, it's enjoyable. I get to laugh at the faces of the people that hate me. I can root on the girls' deaths as they mount the stage, because these are the same girls that've been calling me ugly and huge and a monster since I was thirteen.

But this year, it's bad.

I know the girl that mounts the stage. I see her working in the field, and I can watch her from my tree as she walks home at night. She's always the last to leave the harvest, not going home until she's sure she's gotten her work in for the day.

Her name's Rue. And, like the creep everyone thinks I am, I've been watching her grow up for years.

It's not as bad as it sounds. I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to do anything bad to her. When I look at her, I see something in her that my classmates are too hardened to be capable of. Rue is kindness. The little girl is kindness and optimism in the face of all that she has going on in her life. She gets her job done. She works in the field. She gets good grades.

We've never spoken before, but I know that we don't have to. District Eleven isn't a home for the speaking. It's a home for what's unspoken—for music.

And, as I mount the stage after hearing my name called, I remain silent.

XXX

Everything I've heard about Thresh is scary.

"Rue, who's that? Up in the tree?"

I turn to my sister, Katria, and see her pointing at the towering maple. Thresh' tree. The one I never dare jump into.

"Thresh," I say.

"What's he doin' up there?"

"I don't know."

"Well, it looks awful lonely."

"Maybe that's why he likes it," I say, then pause. "Maybe he's sad."

"Why would he be sad?"

"No one really likes him, Katria."

"Why not?"

I think back to the rumors, to everything I've heard my classmates say about him. Each story is more wild then the next.

Finally, I tell her, "I don't know."

XXX

I decide I can't protect Rue. She isn't mine to protect. What I'm feeling doesn't matter, because I know she wouldn't want me to. That little girl is smart—her grades are better at twelve than mine would ever be. Maybe, she was even smart enough to outlast everyone else.

Maybe she could even outlast me.

I'm taken aback, because as we step onto the train, she wordlessly throws her arms around me in a hug. We've never seen each other to face to face before the Reaping. I stumble for a second, because even though she weighs a third of what I do, I don't know this feeling. I don't know how it feels to have someone other than my Nana touch me.

I want to hug her back. I want to say something reassuring and kind enough to match who she is, to say the words of comfort she deserves to hear. Instead, I just stand there, like the dumb idiot everyone thinks I am.

"You'll be okay," she whispers. Maybe if she was taller, she would've said it right in my ear. "You're going to win, Thresh."

Thresh. She knows my name.

I pull away from Rue, and she gives me a very small smile. She isn't afraid of me. She isn't afraid of the fact that I'm bigger and stronger and older than her and probably anyone else in these Games.

Because she knows I can't kill her. I don't have it in me to kill that little girl.

XXX

_Little Girl._

"Who does that little girl think she is? Scoring a seven?"

"I'm twice as tall as she is, how the hell did she score higher than me?"

"Pooling the names of twelve-year olds in the Reapings, _that's _sick."

This is all I hear from my fellow tributes. Most are too self-absorbed and focused on winning to pay attention to me, but the few that do can't offer more than some comment on how small I am. And, it's true—I am small. I'm barely five feet tall and I couldn't tip the scale at seventy pounds. While all of the other sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year olds are plotting ways to kill each other, they already count me out, because as far as they're concerned, I've been dead since the second my name was drawn.

_Little Girl._

I don't like that name. I don't like the way I hear it roll off of everyone's tongues. It's like they're sizing me up.

As the boy from District Two shoves past me on his way to the swords one day, I hear him say very distinctly, "Out of my way, kid."

I'm almost thrown to the ground by the force of his hit, that's how little I am in comparison. I'm angry and I'm upset, but I don't let that show for more than a second. Because, even though the other tributes might count me out because of my size, what they think is my biggest flaw is actually my best chance at winning. They won't see me coming. So in the mean time, I exhale, wiping my face of any expression and hoping that no one saw me for that split second I was unhinged.

But someone did.

XXX

"Out of my way, kid."

It happens so fast. I watch across the gym as the blonde boy from District Two shoves Rue out of his way. I stare, and feel angry. He'll have plenty of time to fight when the games begin. Starting now by picking on a defenseless girl is downright cruel.

And, only a few hours later, him and his friends are walking over to me.

"District Eleven," he says, addressing me.

I barely turn my head. I don't owe him more than a grunt.

It only takes me a second to notice, but he takes the smallest step back._ Good_, I think. _You better be scared._

"Are you good with a knife?"

_I'm from District Eleven, you dumb shit, of course I am, _is all I think. But something told me that this wasn't a question I should answer. Silence was my best weapon.

This boy couldn't take a hint. He dropped his voice and said, "I'm forming an alliance with the girl from my district and a few others. You should join."

I was silent the whole time and silent I would remain. And, he walks away, telling me to think about it, clearly disappointed because he now knows he can't kill me when I'm not looking.

_If you didn't push Rue,_ I think,_ maybe I'd've said yes._

XXX

There's one last night before the games.

A part of me is terrified, because I know the odds are against me. I'm the youngest, I'm the smallest, and I'm a girl. But another part of me is stoic, and curious, even. Maybe this would be a year for Hunger Games history. No twelve-year-old has ever won.

A part of me puts that thought out of my mind, though. Because for some reason, seeing a battlefield with the dead bodies of Thresh and the District Twelve tributes who didn't seem half bad unsettled me.

_I can think about that tomorrow._

As I'm walking from the kitchen in our District Eleven complex to my room, I smile, seeingSeeder fast asleep on the couch. I like her. Even as a victor and our mentor and more than entitled to the room of her own, in her words, "nothing beats the comfort of a couch by the fire."

I jump when I see Thresh suddenly sitting at the foot of the stairs. I didn't see him there earlier.

"Geez," I mutter, without really meaning to.

He looks up from his reverie, and lets out a grumble. "Sorry."

Huh. I've never heard him speak before. "It's okay. You scared me, that's all."

He gives me a sad smile, and shakes his head a bit. "What?" I ask.

"That's what everyone says about me. I'm always the scary one."

_Your voice sure sounds like it,_ I think. I've never heard such a low and gravelly grumble. Maybe that's because he was trying to keep quiet, for Seeder's sake. I could easily hear it be loud and booming and all the more terrifying.

I shake it off, shrugging as I take a seat next to him. I ignore how he recoils from me, because it's probably a guy reaction. "It's late. We should probably get some sleep."

"Probably," he agrees.

I turn to him. He seems to have relaxed. Something overtakes me to ask a question that I'm sure is very inappropriate.

"I saw you talking to Cato."

He winces, but doesn't say anything.

"Was he asking you to be his ally?"

He doesn't react—not a nod or a word came from his mouth. I take it as a yes.

"You said no, didn't you."

My question came out as a fact, and he turned to look me in the eye. How small I was in comparison. If we were walking side by side on a street, people would think I was his baby sister or niece or maybe even his daughter. But only six years separated us.

"Knives in the back hurt the most," is all he says.

"Yeah. They do."

We don't say anything for a minute. Then he turns to me and says, "I hear you sing. Back at home." He waits before adding, "Where'd you learn to sing like that?"

"I don't know. I just did."

He doesn't have to say it, because his words are already hanging in the air.

_It's beautiful._

"If I die tomorrow," I whisper, "I want someone to sing me to sleep."

Even I've shocked myself from what I've said. Technically, I've known Thresh for years, but this is the first time we've ever spoken. And my dying wish is such a personal topic.

He doesn't act like it, though. "You better hope it isn't me then," he mutters, "Because when I sing, the _birds _die."

That one line is enough to send both of us into a fit of laughter. It's dark humor, but if these are the last hours of my life, laughing is better than being scared, especially if it's with a boy that I doubt has ever laughed with anyone else before.

A few minutes pass, and finally the laughter subsides. He says to me very quietly, "You should go to bed, little girl. Big day tomorrow."

_Little girl._ Up until now, _weakness _was what I thought "little girl" meant. But the way Thresh says it is different. It's endearing and sweet and sad, all at the same time

And maybe that's how things were.

"Okay," I respond. I get up to leave, but as I'm halfway up the stairs, I turn around and say, "Goodnight, Thresh."

I don't expect to hear anything, but as my back is turned to him, I hear him say, "Goodnight, Rue."

A/N: Jesus, Thresh is a difficult character to write as far as perspective goes, but I think I did him justice. It sounds a little Jim-ish from Huck Finn to me, but nevertheless, it's not exactly a dialect I'm used to writing in. Note that I am _not _racist my any means (I live in New York. Durr) I'm just following the mannerisms of his speech Collins provided us with. 'Sides, I really really _like _Thresh, and I think he's ten times more intelligent than Cato and Glimmer are (much as I adore those two.)

Anyway, I was initially thinking that this would be a one-shot, but the ending is starting to seem very abrupt to me. Check back in a few days for chapter two.

Blessings,

Vikki

PS. Check out my other Hunger Games fics! I have a Glimmer/Cato one-shot entitled _The Other Games _and a Peetniss one-shot called _Words Not Spoken_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And it's finally completed! Sorry the second chapter of this two-shot ran a little late, life kind of kicked me in the ass and it took a little longer than I would've liked to get back on my feet. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this—I had a blast writing about these two, because even though Rue/Thresh is neither my OTP nor conventional, this is different from anything I've ever done.

Blessings,

Vikki

_Little Girl, Gentle Giant_

Chapter Two

By WildPomegranate

I don't want to die. And I know that if I don't want to, I'm not going to.

The gong sounds, and I listen to Seeder. I run. I ran fast and far and away from the other tributes. People were probably expecting a fight from me: Thresh, the quiet sponsor-magnet from District Eleven. But the Cornucopia isn't my fight. The Careers are.

I take to the field of grain. It feels like home there. I drink from other side of the lake at night, while the Careers are hunting. A week goes by, and I've only made two kills. A boy from District Seven and a girl from District Ten. After that, they all stay far, far away from my field. That's Thresh's place, they figure. That's where the scary one lives. He'll kill you on the spot.

Maybe I would. I don't like these people much.

But District Seven was dying anyway. He was covered in blood when I saw him, and he was shaking in the cold night air. I killed him in his sleep, and the cannon went off. He didn't move. He spent the last seconds of his life dreaming about home.

But District Ten came after me. She slashed at my arms and tried to kill me. Maybe I could've killed her faster. Made her suffer less. But I didn't want to.

I sit in the field of wheat all my days. It's not much different from my tree. It's quiet, and I can think, but only if I want to. Most days, I don't think at all, I just watch the people work in the field below me. Sometimes I'll watch Rue. But here in the arena, there's no one to watch. There's the boom of the cannon and, sometimes, the sound of Careers arguing, but only if the wind blows my way. I am safe in my wheat field. I'm safe from anything human.

Even when they show those faces in the sky, I'm not scared. I hope it's a Career, and maybe the fire girl, because I don't want to kill her. She'd make me hunt her down. And I didn't want to hunt until I had to. The Careers—they would come to me. It would only take time. But the fire girl isn't stupid. She would make me come to her.

But, silently, I say a prayer every night as the faces reach the later Districts. I want to win these Games, and the more that die, the easier that will be. But I don't want Rue to die. I don't want her in this arena at all. Living in a wheat field makes it harder to forget that I'm not the only one from District Eleven here. This is no place for a Little Girl like her

For six nights, the sky stays clear. Rue's alive. Her heart still beats.

On the seventh night, it's good news, at first. I see two Careers' faces in the sky—District One and District Three. But, then, the news is bad.

Little Rue's face is shining in the sky. And after that, I'm not so sure I want to win anymore.

XXX

"There may be allowed two Victors if they both originate from the same district."

_From the same district._

Rue's dead. It's been one day. And _now _they're making an announcement.

I want to scream, but no words come out. There are no screams loud enough for this. And in the arena, I have to stay silent.

But I can't help but think.

_If I'd helped her all along . . . if I'd killed those Careers . . . if I spent more time outside of this field . . . if I stopped thinking about my silence and about saving myself . . ._

Thinking is dangerous. Thinking is dangerous to someone who does not speak. I do not speak, I do not cry, I do not make a sound that night. My heartache is louder than all of that.

If only I'd done more. Then maybe that Little Girl would still be alive. Maybe we would be going home together.

It's selfish, and it's not right. But I let a silent tear fall. And I promise myself it's the only time I'll ever cry in this arena.

XXX

Three days, I wait.

I think.

I eat.

I sleep.

Everything in the arena used to be quiet. There are only six of us left. Now it's loud with my thoughts.

All of them are about Rue.

XXX

"This is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately. Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

A now the strange man is on his megaphone, saying something that means nothing. I sit there and think, wondering what I could possibly "need desperately." I had food, I had water. I wasn't hurt. I hadn't moved from my spot of the field in days.

But the Gamemakers are smart. And I knew what would be waiting for me at the feast.

"A chance to avenge Rue." I freeze, scaring myself.

These are the first words I've said in the arena.

If I go to the feast, my backpack will definitely be empty. Maybe the Gamemakers will feel bad enough to throw in a bottle of water or some District Eleven delicacies, but they wouldn't have to. I'm well fed and I've had enough water for these entire games.

There's only one thing I need desperately.

I need to get mad.

I need to get even.

I need to kill the Careers.

Starting with the Career that killed Rue.

XXX

Fire Girl is in trouble.

I'm watching her and the girl with the knife go at it, staying low in the bushes where I can't be seen. And, when I see Fire Girl struggle under her, I hope she's killed. There's six of us. Chances are, if the Careers don't kill her, I will. And I don't want to. Then, once knife girl is done and Fire Girl is dead, the Careers will have nothing to do but hunt me down. And I'll be ready for them.

I'll be ready avenge Rue.

Rue.

I'm hanging on to Knife Girl's every word. If _I'm _scary, then I don't know what she's supposed to be. She's awful. She's tormenting Fire Girl—okay, fine, _Katniss—_and I feel a little bad. A little.

But then, I hear it.

"Forget it, District Twelve. We're going to kill you. Just like we did your pathetic little ally . . ."

_No._ I knew it the entire time, but I didn't know I would have to listen to it.

_Pathetic little ally._

". . . what was her name? The one who hopped around in trees?"

Surprise goes away. All I feel is anger. I think of my tree back home and how I would sometimes see Rue, hanging on the canopy and jumping around. She always made sure to avoid me. Maybe if I wasn't the scary guy, she would've jumped right in.

"Rue?"

There.

I heard it.

And now I knew what I had to do.

I can barely hear the rest of what she says, I'm so angry. I need to pounce. I need to make the kill. This is the girl that killed little Rue. Now it's my turn to end her. I don't even think about killing Fire Girl as I run onto the field. The girl with the knives is my only target.

And as I pick her up, she's light as a doll.

I save Fire Girl's life.

I'm mad. This is when I'm _really _scary.

"What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?"

I'm shouting. I don't think I've ever shouted before in my life.

And now I see the girl from District Two for who she really is. A coward. Because she spends the last few minutes of her life blaming Rue's death on someone else. And just when I thought killing a little girl couldn't be any worse, it was. Because this girl and these Careers who thought knew so much about honor knew _nothing._

I don't know what's stronger—my anger or my shame for them.

I have to end the girl from District Two. I don't care about making it long or painful or short and sweet, I just want her dead.

The last words that come out of her mouth are her screaming for help.

And, now that Rue's killer is dead, I need to deal with Fire Girl. If I wasn't so angry, I would've noticed how she doesn't try to run or fight, but holds her ground without showing fear. Maybe I would've had a chance to like Fire Girl. Instead, all I can think about is Rue, and my head and heart are hurting.

"What'd she mean? About Rue being your ally?" I manage.

"I—I—we teamed up," she stammers. "Blew up the supplies. I tried to save her, I did. But he got there first. District One."

_Hmph. So it wasn't the girl with the knives after all._

"And you killed him?" I demand.

"Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flower," she says. "And I sang her to sleep."

And now Fire Girl's eyes are filling with tears, but I don't think about her because all I'm thinking about is Rue. Our first, last, and only conversation was about her being sung to sleep in these games. And that's exactly what Fire Girl did.

"To sleep?"

"To death. I sang until she died," she says. "Your district . . . they sent me bread."

And, now, I don't know what to do with Fire Girl. Because I can see she's overwhelmed and that she's sad and that if she cared about Rue that much, maybe Rue cared about her too. This is a Game and now that there is only one Career left, it's a Game I can win. I might as well kill her, right?

"Do it fast, okay, Thresh?"

Shit. _Now_ I'm stuck. This girl knows honor—she knows it's my job to kill her. She's even making it easy for me. _Do it fast, Thresh. _Isn't that the answer? Isn't that what my audience wants me to do?

No.

These Games might be about the audience, but not to me. It's about my district and my family and bringing them honor. And I wasn't going to start by dishonoring them now. Fire Girl did something for Rue I never could—she gave the little girl her dying wish. She was her hero when I couldn't be.

"Just this one time, I let you go," I say finally. I point my finger at her. I don't like this choice, and it isn't easy, but it's the right one. "For the little girl. You and me, we're even then. No more owed. You understand?"

She nods, and that's it. Killing Fire Girl—it's useless. Someone else will just have to do it. Leaving her alive, I know it could be the difference between life and death. But now, dying doesn't seem too bad anymore.

The Career's screaming is what breaks the spell. "You better run now, Fire Girl," I tell her. And as she takes off sprinting, I can't help but think, _Thank you, Katniss Everdeen. Now I know what I have to do._

It was my turn to help Rue.

I turn to the bags, grabbing mine and District Two's. I know what I'm doing-I'm picking a fight that I probably won't be able to win. But I don't care. Killing the girl with the knives wasn't enough—I have a few more bones to pick with the Careers.

XXX

I run far and fast, and finally, I reach the only tree in the wheat field. It stands tall and alone. It reminds me of my tree back in Eleven.

I climb up it, scaling the bark with both bags slung over my shoulder. I sit on one of the highest branches—high enough for a good climb, but thick enough to support my weight. I look out over the horizon. As the Capitol anthem sounds, I see the face of the girl with the knives. I'm smiling.

"For Rue," I whisper.

Rue. The little girl I was too late to save. The one that could still be alive right now, if only I'd helped her from the start. We both could've made it out of these Games alive. Now, all I can do was hope and try to avenge her in death.

And I think I'm doing it right.

"Come get me, you bastard!" I scream into the night.

Let District Two come running. Let him find me and kill me. Let me try to avenge his girl, the one with the knives. I could tell that something was going on there. That's why I didn't kill the Girl with the Knives sooner—her partner would've killed me.

What those Careers never thought of was that something was going on with me and Rue too.

Not a whole lot—I don't know how much Rue thought of me.

But the little girl was kindness.

She was happiness.

She was everything I would ever want.

Maybe there were six years between us. Maybe we _were _about to fight to the death. Maybe we'd only ever spoken once. But I'd been too afraid to talk to her all those years—which is funny, because usually, I'm the scary one.

I don't know if I love her. Respect, yes, but love? That takes time. That needs to grow. And living in District Eleven, that would never happen.

What I do know is this.

In another world, I would love her. I would be whatever she wanted me to be—a friend, a big brother, or a lover, because Rue deserves that and so much more.

_This _world—my district, my nation, and the Games—took Rue away from me. And so, as the sun comes up and I see that the boy from District Two has found me, I only think one thing.

"Time to go see Rue in that other world."

XXX

A/N: As always, thank you so much for reading! Reviews are very much appreciated.

If this pairing isn't your cup of tea, please check out the plethora of other one-shots I've written for the _Hunger Games_ fandom:

Peetnis—_Words Not Spoken_

Glato—_The Other Games_

Clato—_A Drug for Angels_

Finnick/Johanna—_Dangerous Waters_


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